


It Is Written

by AEpixie7



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Beelzebub Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Gabriel (Good Omens), F/M, Gabriel Has a Penis (Good Omens), Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Master/Pet, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Simultaneous Orgasm, Top Beelzebub (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Gabriel's hair is awfully messed up in the airbase scene. Is it because his preferred travel method is lightning? Probably. Am I turning it into an excuse to write a bottom Gabriel quickie? Also yes.
Relationships: Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	It Is Written

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my personal headcanon, as I headcanon that Bee and Gabe didn't get together until after Armageddon. But someone pointed out on [this post I made on Tumblr](https://knightofthesevenfandoms.tumblr.com/post/186985130916/why-is-no-one-talking-about-gabriels-hair) that Gabriel's crazy hair at the airbase scene could have been Beelzebub's doing, not the lightning he used to travel there. And that little brain worm has been eating at me so I decided to write it.

Gabriel sighed and yanked the headset off his head, tossing it dramatically down onto the desk. He’d been watching the live stream of the Earth observation files, and while he had _hoped_ he'd been wrong about Aziraphale, his hopes had been unequivocally dashed. Not only had the Principality attempted to kill the Antichrist, instead of encouraging him to start the war, he'd even failed to kill the boy. Useless angel. If you want something done right, do it yourself. 

He whipped out his phone and navigated to a contact that was simply labeled “B” and began typing a furious message. 

**Everything's gone to shit. Need a game plan. Conference room. Now.**

He miracled himself to a conference room on Earth where formal meetings with the Opposition usually took place. One side of the long table was well kept—chairs pushed neatly in, the tabletop free of dust or scratches, tablets and styluses aligned perfectly in front of each chair. The other side, however, was noticeably less so. Chairs knocked over, claw marks on the table, and slime from a few unruly amphibians. The only place on the demons' side that showed even the slightest evidence of decorum was the one at the end. Of all the political rivals Gabriel had been forced to deal with over the millennia, at least this one took her reputation seriously. 

She appeared in said chair in a puff of flame and smoke, her expression more intense than he’d ever seen it. Where she was usually stoic, bored, or downright _annoyed,_ now she just looked… 

Enraged. 

“What. The fuck. Izzzz happening?” she seethed, eyes glowing red, and Gabriel had to gulp down a bubble of nervousness. Beelzebub was usually quietly intimidating. She let the other demons bark and bicker at their meetings, only interjecting to snap loudly at whichever angel or demon overstepped their bounds. This time, her façade had fallen. The true demon beneath was showing. And she was _terrifying_. 

“I wish I could answer that politely, Prince Beelzebub, but I’m at my breaking point here. The fact of the matter is… both our Earth delegates are fucking traitors.” 

Beelzebub sucked her tongue over a canine in annoyance, and considered Gabriel's words as she stared straight ahead. Gabriel took a moment to observe how clean she looked. Presentable. Almost like a proper military general. Although he’d of course picked out the best of his wardrobe for the occasion as well (couldn’t show up at the end of the world wearing any less than his very best), he was just surprised that the demon Lord had taken the same thought into consideration. 

Gabriel pulled his attention away from her—couldn’t have her thinking he was _admiring_ or anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance and paced the conference room, the discarded remnants of some potato chips crunching under his Louboutins as he made his way down the demons' side of the table. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the Prince _also_ admiring his choice of fashion. By the time he pulled his hand away from his face and leaned over the table, both large hands pressing flat against it, the Prince's gaze had hardened once again. Her eyes were frigid when they met his. 

“Beelzebub… what the Hell do we do now?” he asked, his tone quite a bit more vulnerable than he’d meant it. If the Prince noticed, she didn’t comment. She sat staring at him for a painstakingly still moment, before standing quickly and knocking her chair back. Gabriel straightened and took a tiny step back, not at all out of fear. That, unfortunately, the Prince _did_ notice. She rounded the corner of the table with surprising speed, grabbed Gabriel by the hair, and threw him forward onto the conference table. He whined quietly and squirmed, half because he knew exactly what was happening and _desperately_ craved it, and half because the Prince had thrown him onto the table and smeared his scarf into some of Hastur's frog juices. _Gross._

Beelzebub pressed her hips forward and pinned him against the table. She kicked both his legs out wide, her hand reaching up to fist in his hair and yanked his head back. He bumbled through a botched attempt at speech, before finally managing to choke out a few words. 

“Really? Right now?” 

He wasn’t sure why he was questioning her, it wasn’t like he didn’t already have a half chub in his pants just from being thrown against the table. But the little voice in the back of his mind nagged at him that this was a _really bad time_ and if he were even a slightly decent angel, he'd be making his way to the airbase to _start the damn war._ As Beelzebub pressed one hand roughly against his back, making his non-corporeal wings ache, he decided he wasn’t all that decent of an angel anyway. 

“Once Armageddon is over, and Hell hazzz triumphed, it's doubtful I'll get to indulge in this delightful sin anymore. I want to tear your ass apart one last time, before I tear it apart on the battlefield. Got a problem with that?” 

Gabriel chuckled, and opened his mouth to insult her overconfidence, but an obstruction of fingers shoved whatever snarky comment he might’ve made right back down his throat. He choked and gagged once, before sucking enthusiastically at her fingers. 

“I’ll take that azzzz a yes,” she cooed, tipping her hips slowly forward and back, rubbing her erection against Gabriel's gorgeous, Armani-clad ass. He whimpered loudly, his legs already shaking as he took her fingers to the back of his throat and gagged himself on them again. She watched him slather her fingers in his saliva, before hooking them against his cheek and relishing his broken moan. Her other hand ventured down to his buttocks, and she gave it a rough _smack_. 

“Thezzzze trousers are in the way. Remove them,” she barked, but kept her hips pinning him against the table. He pressed his fingers together in preparation of miracling his trousers away, but Beelzebub hissed loudly and hooked her fingers harder against the inside of his cheek. 

“Leave them on. I want the mighty Archangel Gabriel with his expensive trousers crumpled up at his ankles. I want to watch my cum drip down thezze gorgeous legs and ruin your suit when I'm done with you. So you can miracle it away before we leave for the airbase, but I'll still see the evidence of your sin. I’ll know you were _my_ little slut, right up until the end. Izzzn't that right, angel?” 

He whimpered a high pitched “mmm-hm,” his hands shoving down between his large body and the table. He struggled with his belt and trousers for a moment before pushing them down over his hips, wiggling his ass to get them all the way down. Beelzebub admired the faint redness on his ass cheek from where she’d smacked him earlier, and wound up for a second strike. This time the crack of skin-on-skin made them both moan loudly, and Gabriel pushed back against Beelzebub's rock hard erection. 

“While I'd love to take my time, unfortunately there'zzzz not a whole lot of it left. We're going to have to make this quick, so I'll have to cut some cornerzzz,” Beelzebub said, miracling herself nude from the waist down. She didn’t even give Gabriel the chance to respond, simply wrestled his wrists and pinned them to his lower back with one hand, the other returning to fist in his silky ashen hair. She used another few miracled shortcuts—slicked her own cock with lube and miracled Gabriel ready for her. She nudged the back of his knees so he would sink down slightly, and eased herself inside him to the brim. His hands clenched where she had them pinned, and he let out a long, low moan. She remained buried inside him for several moments, until his breaths came quicker and his body began to tremble with anticipation. 

“I thought you said you were going to tear me apart?” he teased, goading her. Normally she wouldn’t give in to his taunts, but there simply wasn’t _time_. So she decided to make him regret it. 

She rearranged her hand in his hair, grabbing a fuller fistful, and pulled his head back to an almost unnatural angle. He groaned against the pain of it, but his groan became a cry when she began pounding mercilessly into him. 

“You like this, don’t you? Filthy angel…” she mused absently, her own breaths increasing rapidly as she maintained her blistering pace. 

“Yes. Yes Lord Beelzebub,” Gabriel gasped, his entire body going just a bit limp as he surrendered to her harsh grasp and her punishing thrusts. 

“The only angel who'zzzz probably going to _enjoy_ what I do to him on the battlefield,” she snarled, feeling him tense a bit at the suggestion. 

“And you know what? Maybe I won't kill you. Oh no,” she said as she released his wrists, reaching around to find his cock raging hard and leaking for her. He planted his newly freed hands on the table and pushed back, shouting when her thrusts hit _just_ the right spot. 

“I'm taking you prisoner. My own personal fuck toy. I’ll keep you chained by my side, to suck and fuck and debase yourself whenever and however I choose,” she growled as she maintained her grip in his hair, her other hand wrapping around his cock and pumping from base to tip in tandem with her thrusts. 

“Maybe I'll make you an ornament in my throne room. No more bespoke suits, no more Louboutins. Just this… _gorgeous_ body of yours. And all of Hell will know you're _mine_. Would you like that, Archangel? If I had you kneeling at my throne while all of Hell watches? Making you suck my cock, or tongue fuck my cunt, whichever I choose? For hours. Days. _Years_.” 

Gabriel had come completely undone. He seemed incapable of speech, and his fingers clawed desperately at the tabletop. Beelzebub could feel him shaking all over, and his cock was so hard in her hand she knew he wouldn’t last more than a few more strokes. She was close to coming too, if she were to be perfectly honest. Gabriel's noises, and how helpless he felt, being railed by a demon he had no place being attracted to, but had lusted after for centuries. It made her tingle in all the right ways, and all the right places. Not to mention she was quite pleased with the little scheme she'd come up with just now. Maybe she wouldn’t have to kill her darling pet after all. 

“I’d like that too,” she said absently, resorting to simply holding the base of his cock instead of stroking him, all the while increasing the thrust of her hips until they were shallow but quick. Gabriel practically _screamed_. “My pretty fuck-angel. Used and abused, I'd keep you forever. Shaking and desperate for me, never allowed to cum. That would be Hell, wouldn’t it? I’d love to see those big, beautiful eyes so crazed with lust, after I've denied you for a few hundred yearzzzz, _fuck_ …” 

She choked on her words as the pleasure became too much, and she slipped into the frenzied chase of her orgasm. Gabriel reached desperately between his legs and closed his big hand around hers, forcing her to stroke him _once, twice_ , and then he was coming with an uninhibited howl, clenching tightly around her cock and sending her reeling into orgasm. She tugged his hair as she buried herself inside him and filled him with her release, both their hips rolling in tandem. Gabriel pumped his release into both their hands, until the waves slowed and he heaved a heavy sigh. Beelzebub released her vice grip from his hair and let him fall roughly onto the table, her hand trailing down his spine before smoothing over his cute ass. She removed herself from him, stumbling back and admiring her handy work. Leaving the pants and trousers around his ankles was an artistic touch that she very much enjoyed. He looked every bit the masterpiece fit for a Prince—exhausted and gasping, too weak to stand and slouched over the conference table, the evidence of lust dribbling down the front and backs of his thighs. _Exquisite._

“Mmmm I'm gonna miss thizzz, angel,” she said, miracling herself clean and her clothes back in order. Gabriel huffed and pushed off the table, weakly miracling himself back to his usual pristine condition. Just as she suspected, though, she could still see the slight tremble of his legs and the faint occult stain of sex and sin on his clothes. 

“Well, if your side wins, you won’t have to miss it,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks as he shot her a mischievous grin. 

“And if your side wins?” she asked, noting how Gabriel's grin faltered ever so slightly. 

“We'll see. Angels are known for their mercy. Maybe we'll take pity on you.” 

“I don’t want your pity, Archangel, I want your blood and cum on my handzzz,” she teased, straightening his lapel, then his tie, but electing to leave his hair ridiculously sex tousled. “I suggest we return to our respective head officezzz and meet at the airbase.” 

“And then what?” Gabriel asked. 

Right. The plan. The reason they’d _actually_ met up. Not to fuck like rabbits on the conference table. To make a plan. 

“You know which one the Antichrist izzz?” 

“Yes. I was watching the Earth observation files when… shit hit the fan.” 

“Then we will deal with him, and then we will deal with the traitorzzz. Az we always have. And then…” she stepped forward and cupped her hand beneath Gabriel's chin. “I will claim my prizzze. Sound like a plan?” 

Gabriel's eyes flashed with something like anticipation. “It does.” 

“Well then. Let's set this plan in motion.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Voice of John Mulaney* AND THEN THEY DIDN'T


End file.
